


Sorry

by peachmilktea



Series: Alternative Methods [7]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachmilktea/pseuds/peachmilktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ending is not as joyful as she had hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like thirty minutes at school, so apologies for any typos, and for the lack of proper accentuation on Connor's real name! I'll go back and fix it eventually.

_He shaved his head._

It was a private affair, and so Namine couldn’t have hoped to see it coming in a hundred years. He simply told her that he needed some time alone and she gave it to him. While Ratonhnhake:ton did whatever he felt was necessary Namine continued to run the household in both he and Achilles place. The least she could do was give him the room to mourn without concerning himself with such menial tasks. With help, Namine learned the full extent of the citizens could make, she got a hold of the finances which had sat ignored for a few weeks now. It wasn’t easy and she couldn’t pretend to be very well suited to it, but it had to be done. And in all honesty it kept her appropriately distracted from Ratonhnhake:ton’s state of mind. His pain was enough to spill over into Namine, into the space where her heart should have been, and threatened to drown her.

Work drained it like a festering wound, though it would inevitably fill up again when she met him again in the evening, day after day.

_Until he shaved his head._

In the quiet hallway of the Davenport house, Achille’s fading breath holding enough strength to be heard even now, Namine looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh.” In hindsight she would chide herself for being so ridiculous over something that was his decision to begin with. Later on, Namine would wonder if he sought her approval or blessing despite the weariness in his eyes composed gaze. Much later from either of those options, she would realize that there was no reason to think she was stupid for wondering if her opinion held any merit with him. Only time and experience, neither of which she possessed then, would help her realize that he needed her to be all right with it to go on. Thankfully, Namine would not need hindsight for her actions, because she straightened the basket of fruit on her hip, freeing up just one hand.

And with it she held his cheek and was careful to avoid the aggressive paint along his skin, the promise for war and finality. “Okay.”

It was really that simple.

Not very long after that he leaves again. She sees him off in quiet, doing her best to smile in the pale darkness. By the time the sun comes up he will have reaches the edges of the Homestead’s territory and gone off to where he needs to be. He might not come back and Namine would have no idea of what to do, to continue worrying or to quietly suffocate her resignation.

She didn’t tell him to come back safely to her, because this has nothing to do with her at all.

She didn’t tell him to be safe, because there is nothing safe about this. She doesn’t need the specifics to know that with every ounce of her not-being.

Namine, in truth, did nothing. He did everything, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing just enough to make her aware of his own tension, his resolution versus her resignation. She holds him back and realizes that she’s grown used to his scent, the heaviness of his body when he leans into her just slightly, always in control of himself. The idea of living without his presence in the house, in the room, could almost break the spot where her heart should be.

When they part, he brushed her hair back.

And then Ratonhnhake:ton leaves.

\--  
While he is gone, Namine draws Haytham.

She wants, so desperately, to ask him what he was going to say when they first met, before Ratonhnhake:ton came back.

\--  
While he is gone, Achilles dies.

Namine does not know what to do, how to proceed, how to handle anything. The concept of a funeral never entered her mind until she landed in this world, until she saw them die. Nobody’s are not buried, they dissolve into nothing because they are nothing. She only knows the death of her own kind, a bit of knowledge tucked away, invisible until called on for the first time.

She isn’t like any of them, but she mourns, cries, wants Achilles back just like all of them.

\--

While he is gone, Namine cries into the pillows on Ratonhnhake:ton’s bed, her sobbing is a violent, angry force that rips through her body. She mumbles as if he could hear her through his pillow case, the various threads that carry his scent but not his presence --

_He’s gone, he’s gone, what do I do? Ratonhnhake:ton what do I do?_

It’s not enough because there is no such thing as ‘enough’. There either is or isn’t.

_Don’t die, you can’t die, you can’t leave me here I won’t do it, I can’t I just can’t-_

Over and over again until there’s nothing left in her.

\--

When he comes back, the funeral proceeds.

In a move that fails to surprise any of them, the Davenport home belongs to Connor. Everything on this land belongs to him. The services is nice, beautiful, maybe. Namine would not really know, and she wonders how Achilles would have felt about all of this. Eerily, she wondered if it is the kind of send off he’d approve for himself. It does occur to her that it’s a morbid thought to have. But Namine thinks that grief makes you do funny things and you’ve got to let it go.

His return grants a certain amount of normality, and it means less work for Namine. He takes the tomahawk from the pillar, he washes the paint from his cheeks, no longer aggressive.

The war is over, though she doesn’t know when it began, or if they should celebrate or not.

\--

The next few days are without much definition. Even the basic functions are difficult. Namine experiences the fallout of his return, the gratuity and thankfulness mixed with confusion and a slight bit of shame. It feels wrong to concern herself with meager things like their relation to each other when Achilles is gone, when Haytham is gone, when Ratonhnhake:ton is pained by both these losses in different ways.

The one picture she finds of that man, to maybe put … Somewhere, has a caption: Sakataterihwahten.

Somehow, Namine doesn’t think that she needs him to tell her what that means.


End file.
